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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28691820">Brother's Keeper</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theplanetprince/pseuds/Theplanetprince'>Theplanetprince</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>80s, Alternate Universe - Bed &amp; Breakfast, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Dark Comedy, Dysfunctional Family, Family Secrets, Gen, Medical Trauma, Mute Michael Myers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:42:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28691820</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theplanetprince/pseuds/Theplanetprince</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(Heavily inspired by c2ndy2c1d/Junkmix's Jason Vorhees Camp Counselor Au)<br/>After finding his sister through the foster system, stoic but surly, Micheal Myers becomes the Silver Shamrock Inn's indispensable groundskeeper. Upon finding out Micheal has an insatiable craving for violence, the bookish Laurie Strode becomes worried about her inn's guests. Though rest assured, Doctor Loomis thinks this is the perfect environment for Micheal's rehabilitation.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Myers &amp; Laurie Strode, Samuel Loomis &amp; Michael Myers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Brother's Keeper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was an average day at the Shamrock <em> before he came home. </em></p><p> </p><p>Just like every other day in the sticks of Illinois. She had been reading the paper, just poured her morning coffee. Three sugars, four creams. She had settled in at the concierge desk. Like always, when it was slow, she thought about how she spent her summers here turning down rooms. While other kids her age were off getting in trouble, making questionable stories to entertain their future children, Laurie Strode worked. </p><p> </p><p>The Myers had been close family friends for years. They never had any children of their own, so Laurie had assumed that they thought of her as one. They were an older couple with not much besides the Shamrock in terms of assets. So when the time came, and cancer proved to be too much for Edith, she encouraged her husband to find a successor. And before dying a month later of heartbreak, Donald did. The burden fell to Laurie. Though it never felt like one. She never felt alone in the endeavor, the staff holding some resentment that a more experienced person wasn’t chosen, still stayed, loyal to the Myers. It was a long and difficult path to get to this point. She had to completely change her bachelor’s from teaching to management. One could get the impression that she was only doing this out of obligation, though she never let on. </p><p> </p><p>There was an empty spot, and she filled it. It was only logical. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t as if her youth was a friend she had no fond memories with and rarely called. Laurie spent time counting the apples on the country wallpaper, wondering if she was wasting what little youth she had left. While people from her high school were already settling down and having children, others were in jail. In terms of life events, the book had closed for those classmates. Silently, she wondered when her life would officially start. Between the thirty-fifth and thirty-eighth apple, she wondered if she missed some big sign that the universe had thrown her. Laurie wasn’t a fighter, she was barely a lover, but she was starting to believe that she was… an observer. </p><p> </p><p>Watching each day pass through the bed and breakfast's picture windows, she was there at a desk, reading the stocks as if she understood it. </p><p> </p><p>The bell at the top of the door chimed. Laurie folded up her paper, hastily and clumsily, hiding it in the desk. She started her routine pitch, “Hi and hello, welcome to the--” </p><p> </p><p>Laurie finally laid eyes upon her ‘guest.’ A startlingly tall, dirty, dark curly-haired man with sunken eyes, a slight overbite, and a broad upturned nose. He wore nondescript tattered jeans with a black long-sleeved crewneck shirt. Despite the bagginess of his clothes, he had a very intimidating build underneath. He stood with unnaturally flawless posture. Not your average elderly couple forcing their family on a cozy retreat she had become accustomed to.</p><p> </p><p>Blinking rapidly, she swallowed, “Uh… W--Wel--Welcome to the Silver Shamrock. Are you by yourself, or are you waiting for someone?” </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t respond. The man cocked his head towards his shoulder. Examining her. He had folded his hands together and stiffly stood with his legs out in the center of the lobby. He didn’t appear confident as much as he appeared out of place. Narrowing his eyes at her, he squeezed his hands tighter. </p><p> </p><p>Was he deaf? </p><p> </p><p>Laurie offered a wave, over-enunciating, “...Hello?” </p><p> </p><p>Silence. Barely a change in reaction. </p><p> </p><p>She scratched her arm out of habit. Normally when guests gave her bad vibes, she would call the station or one of the chefs to deal with it. Though so far, this man was just standing there. Menacingly, one might say. Perhaps he was just thinking of what to say…? Laurie didn’t leave a lot of men speechless. He continued to stare down at her. So she felt the only response was to stare back. </p><p> </p><p>The bell rang again. A much smaller, older, balding man in a trench coat pushed through. The older man retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and began patting his sweat-covered head. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not as young as I used to be, Michael you really shouldn’t run ahead,” He muttered to the taller man. Scolding him as if he was his father. </p><p> </p><p>Laurie relaxed since she was no longer alone with tall, dark, and Brooding. She found herself leaning back in her chair, “Can I help you two?” </p><p> </p><p>The stout man altered his attention to Strode, “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I am Doctor Samuel Loomis--” </p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t you the guy who got his hand busted in that riot at Smith’s Grove?” Laurie had a calling to that sanatorium. Something about it fascinated her. Of course, this would earn unclever or snide jokes from her friends-- saying that she should be committed.</p><p>She thought she had a dream of being there once. It was vivid, and the memory became a funny anecdote. When she was about six or so, she had gone to Smith’s Grove. There was a pond in the courtyard, with a plaque she couldn’t yet read. She remembered feeling the grooves of the metal letters. A patient saw her standing there and lunged toward her. She dropped the stuffed bear she had been clutching. Laurie never found that bear again. So whenever the newspaper mentioned it, she read. Whenever she overheard someone talk about it, she quietly observed. </p><p> </p><p>The man looked down his hand, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles. Loomis chuckled awkwardly, “My reputation proceeds me.” </p><p> </p><p>He cleared his throat and gestured to his companion, “This is my patient Micheal.” </p><p>Micheal still wore the exact same bored expression. </p><p> </p><p>Feeling her body lurch forward again, Laurie didn’t say anything initially. She didn’t want to come across as discriminatory, but being cautious was natural. Smith’s Grove wasn’t exactly a nice place. They took the hardest cases, using the hardest measures. It wasn’t a surprise when it closed down, but the community of Haddonfield didn’t respond positively to the idea of ‘dead weight.’ A swath of hardly employable people with little connection to the outside world or exposure to stress. </p><p> </p><p>“I can assure you, he is perfectly harmless,” Samuel noted her change in body language.</p><p> </p><p>Embarrassed, Laurie attempted to clarify, “Oh-- no-- I’m not… I’m not insinuating he isn’t…” </p><p> </p><p>“Miss, this is the fourth place we’ve been turned away from.” Loomis smiled wearily, “We are quite used to it.” </p><p> </p><p>Micheal rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscles.</p><p> </p><p>“I-- I’m-- I’m not gonna turn you away,” Strode stammered out, “I’m… I’m just not sure what the protocol is.” </p><p> </p><p>“You could acknowledge us as guests?” Loomis suggested with a shrug.</p><p> </p><p>Retrieving the guest book, she slid it onto the desk. Laurie adjusted the pen jar, inviting the pair to sign their names. Sam approached first, writing rather heavy-handedly-- more as a line with a few bumps. A typical doctor’s signature. Loomis held the pen out for Micheal to urging that he take it from him. Allowing the man some autonomy.</p><p> </p><p>“See, you sign your name below mine there,” he instructed. </p><p> </p><p>Micheal wrote more delicately, loosely holding the pen. He paused. Micheal tapped his doctor on the shoulder, then gestured to the rest of the boxes. </p><p> </p><p>“Right. Since you don’t have a phone or address, you can just use mine.” </p><p> </p><p>The quiet seeped back in— just the scribbling of the pen against the paper grain and the ticking of the clock. After Micheal did his best to copy Loomis’s information-- including the same spelling errors Laurie noticed, despite Micheal visibly wanting to correct it-- he still hesitated to set the pen down. The last box was labeled ‘comment.’ </p><p> </p><p>Laurie tapped the box, explaining, “This box, you can say whatever you’d like.” </p><p> </p><p>He blinked, shifting the pen in his hand. Micheal got closer to the book--  nearly a nose distance apart. For accuracy, one would guess. He took even longer to scrawl something, then threw the pen back into the cup. </p><p> </p><p>Laurie and Loomis had been enamored with watching Micheal work that they hadn’t said anything to each other. Blinking rapidly, Strode shook her head, “How long will you be staying with us?” </p><p> </p><p>“Just for the night.” </p><p> </p><p>“Would you like a wake-up call?” Laurie began to type into the computer registry. </p><p> </p><p>“Let’s say eight AM,” Loomis nudged his patient, “I say we deserve to sleep in-- don’t we?” </p><p> </p><p>Micheal gave a lengthy sigh from his nose before turning toward the window.</p><p> </p><p>Laurie couldn’t imagine eight AM being a time to look forward to either. Her nails hit the keys entering the automated call. She faced the key wall and removed the keys for eight-twenty off the board. Laurie plucked out two brochures for the Silver Shamrock’s amenities in her practiced way, placing the keys on top, and slid it onto the counter. </p><p> </p><p>After grabbing the keys to his room, Loomis breathed with ease. Judging by how he was wrinkled and how sweaty he was-- the pair had been on the road a long time and had a long time ahead. </p><p> </p><p>Laurie offered, “We do have one of those state-of-the-art jacuzzis out back if you need to unwind.” </p><p> </p><p>That caused a dry laugh to emerge from Sam, “Does that clash with the at-home farm aesthetic?” </p><p> </p><p>She snickered, “Everyone has one these days.” </p><p> </p><p>Having migrated from the desk over to the window overlooking the barn, Micheal pressed his hand on the window. He seemed intensely focused on the field. Strode looked at the clock; the horses would typically be out in the field to stretch their legs. At one point, she had done the exact same thing. When she was small, Donald Myers had to bring out a dining chair so Laurie could peer out the window and stare at the animals. They were beautiful creatures, but not too bright. Horses were often symbols for free spirits. Laurie was beginning to think horses greatly misunderstood their symbiotic relationship to humans. She wouldn’t call being saddled, being free.</p><p> </p><p>Spinning the keyring around his finger, Loomis tasked, “Let's go unpack the car, Michael.” </p><p> </p><p>Rapping the window lightly but excitedly, Michael didn’t move from his spot or change his resting face. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I suppose this is the first time you’ve seen horses outside of the books,” Loomis observed the field, “Remarkable, aren’t they?” </p><p> </p><p>All Strode could do was shake her head in amusement. She could hardly believe she was worried. Overacting to a man who hadn’t seen the outside world for god knows how many years. Perhaps he was speechless because when seeing everything for the first time, you couldn’t compare it— an overflow of visual information and people. </p><p> </p><p> “You can feed them later if you’d like.” She fanned out her newspaper once more, “The stalls stay open until six.” </p><p> </p><p>Loomis returned a smile, “Would you like to see the barn, my friend?” </p><p> </p><p>With a nod, Michael gradually stopped hitting the glass. </p><p> </p><p>“I suppose we could make some time this afternoon,” Samuel exited through the front door, signaling for his patient to follow. </p><p> </p><p>Before Michael left, his eyes found their way back to Laurie. She seemed to be preoccupied with her reading, but he tilted his head curiously at her once more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'll be honest, the biggest inspiration I had for this was, oddly enough, Gilmore Girls. My father and I, during the pandemic, managed to power through the whole series. He enjoyed it; I'm more of the sci-fi/horror/paranormal leaning. One night we both ended up getting really stoned and went back and forth on the idea of a dark comedy movie where Laurie and Micheal the rest of the year actually do get along. They just set aside one day a year to have a sibling fight. Thus this idea came about. </p><p>If somehow this wacky idea appeals to you, leave a comment.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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